


Don't Leave Me

by Amikotsu



Series: Whumptober Prompts [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Death, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Shaky Hands, Whumptober, dream - Freeform, wake up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 11:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: He'd died. There was no other explanation. Chakra exhaustion had really killed him, sparing him from a life without Obito and Rin. They were in the afterlife, reunited again, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there with them.





	Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): Wake Up & Shaky Hands

Skin and muscle and bone parted for him, the blood that followed blooming red from the gaping hole in her chest. Her lips parted, and he watched as more red blossomed. She whispered his name, like a lone prayer, and then he saw the life leave her, felt the last-moment spasm of her heart fighting to pump blood that had already left her body, that continued to leave her body. He choked out her name, his eyes widening at the horrifying image of her dull eyes. He slowly pulled back, feeling the bones scrape against his forearm, the jagged pieces scraping at his skin, and then he took her in his arms. He tried to, but he failed. His fingers caught the edge of her shirt, but he couldn’t get his hand to close around the fabric. Her body fell, and he fell along with her. His left eye burned with such an intensity that it made him physically ill. He tipped forward, resting on hands and knees in a puddle of her blood. He dry heaved for a moment, but that didn’t last long, not when his stomach called up the contents of his last meal and a stream of stomach acid that burned his throat. He crawled through his own vomit to reach her body, and then he remembered nothing but the burning pain in his eye and the hollow feeling in his chest. Perhaps he’d die there too.

It was a joke, and he was a victim of circumstances beyond his control. He opened his eyes and found her kneeling over him. Rin. She smiled at him, her brown locks dropping over her shoulders to frame her face. She brushed her fingers over his cheek, then she slid her hands under his arms and helped him into a seated position. She looked alive, from the healthy blush staining her pale cheeks to the white teeth revealed from her bright smile. Rin. Kakashi reached out and took hold of her chin. The red that had once flowed from between her parted lips was no more. She seemed to find some humor in his actions, but he drank in the way she rolled her eyes and the way she rested her right hand atop his right wrist. The blood on his hand, on his arm, was gone, as if he’d never plunged his hand through her chest and felt the beat of her heart against his flesh. He opened his mouth, but he only managed a choked off sob. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth, trying to fight against the tears stinging his eyes. The pain in his left eye was gone, gone like the scratches on his arm, like the parting of skin and muscle and bone. They were whole again.

“What’s wrong with him? Oi, bastard, who’s the crybaby now?”

“Obito! Leave him alone. Something’s wrong. Are you alright, Kakashi?”

Dead. Perhaps he’d died too. He remembered being thrown out of the way of the crushing rocks. He remembered the feel of Rin’s chakra during the transfer of Obito’s eye. Suddenly, he remembered the aching in his chest, his second loss in his life. And it was about his father then, stumbling across the man’s body, inhaling the scent of old blood, the metallic tang causing him to gag. He felt a hand on his back and he finally let his hands drop from over his face. Obito was there, right at his side, an apologetic smile in place, chapped lips pulled tight as the boy tried to reassure him. Kakashi threw his arms around both of them and drew them to his chest. Obito choked, more from the tight hold Kakashi had around his neck rather than the sudden show of affection. Rin looked bewildered, her eyes wide and her mouth open for the tiny gasp she’d released. He ignored the looks exchanged over his head and held them until their arms wound around him in return. He never thought he’d initiate a hug, let alone a group hug, but his grief had spilled over and tainted him, ruining his former aloof, tough-guy persona. They were reunited again, and he couldn’t think of a better ending for Team Minato.

“Hey, it’s ok. Just stop crying, alright?” Obito’s voice was surprisingly soft, and Kakashi felt a hand atop his head, fingers tangling in his hair. They’d always sought to hurt one another, every touch vicious and precise, just like their words. And mostly it was Kakashi, but Obito knew how to wound someone too. “You just have to tell us what’s wrong. Are you hurt?” Obito looked into Kakashi’s eyes, one blood red and the other hidden behind a black eyepatch. Kakashi knew that the other eye was missing; he knew that his left eye belonged to the Uchiha. Kakashi reached out and touched the eyepatch, and Obito flinched, as if expecting pain, expecting the hurt they knew.

“What about,” Kakashi began, trailing off. Brows drawn together, chest constricting, he fought against the overwhelming sadness creeping up on him, turning the bittersweet moment into something ugly. Obito reached up and took Kakashi’s hand, tangling their fingers together in the way that the boy had once tangled fingers in Kakashi’s hair. “What about Kannabi? What about the rocks? You were,” Kakashi paused, his breathing suddenly harder to control, his heart beating out of his chest, “you were dead. We left you for dead, Obito!”

“Whoa, where is this coming from?” Obito frowned, eyes cutting to Rin. The girl looked shocked, as if the thought of that was too much to consider. “You didn’t leave me. Minato-sensei saved me, and he saved us from the reinforcements. Rin, did he hit his head?”

“I didn’t think I’d hit him. He just stood there and took the punch. I didn’t hit him that hard! Not enough to cause this! Maybe I can,” Rin began, placing her hands over Kakashi’s head, “maybe something is wrong.” She closed her eyes to concentrate and Kakashi looked between his teammates, both of them worried about him, even though he found himself unworthy of their attention, their concern. “It looks like you have a concussion. I don’t understand how. Did you hurt yourself before practice? You can always come to me about this stuff, Kakashi,” she lectured him, breezing through the words he’d heard hundreds of times before, before Obito had died, before he’d pushed her away, before he’d thrust his hand through her chest and extinguished her life.

Kakashi slowly pulled his arms back, releasing them both from the death grip he had on them. Rin pulled back first, her small smile some reassurance that her opinion of him, her schoolgirl crush on him, still remained. Kakashi could have laughed at the adoration in her eyes, the worry in her well-hidden dimples. He’d never noticed her dimples before, the way they existed and disappeared depending on the intensity of her smile. Obito looked back and forth between the two, eyes narrowing with each passing second. Finally, Obito invaded Kakashi’s line of sight, completely hiding Rin from view, and wasn’t that normal behavior for him. Kakashi reached up and slid his hand against the back of Obito’s neck, drawing the boy in once more, until their foreheads touched. Obito sputtered, words an incoherent stream that eventually faded into a single huff. Obito stared off to the side, though his cheeks were as red as Rin’s had been. And it felt wonderful to see them again, to see the red stain to the Uchiha’s features, to hear the grumbles Obito knew he must have heard.

“Well? Are you going to kiss me or not?”

“What?”

“Oh whatever,” Obito muttered, leaning in to bridge the short distance between them. Kakashi felt Obito’s lips against his own and his eyes widened for a moment. He panicked, wondering how Obito could have known, and then his eyes closed and nothing mattered more than the feel of their lips and the lingering sweetness from Obito’s favorite candies. Obito tasted like cherries, with an undertone of lemon, and Kakashi took that as his new favorite flavor. When they parted, Obito drew back and smiled at him, a small, crooked thing that left Kakashi’s heart pounding in his chest. “For a second, I thought you’d freak out on me.”

“Why did you,” Kakashi began, cut off by Obito’s snort.

“Kiss you? That’s what couples do, idiot,” Obito answered, visible eye rolling skyward.

“Sorry I’m late! What did I miss?” Minato had run across the training ground to reach them, then he doubled over, as if he’d run through the entire village several times over, as if he weren’t a capable jonin. Minato tried his best to be on time, most of the time showing up early for practices and missions, so his sudden tardiness was out of character for him. Kakashi looked at Rin and Obito to judge their reactions, but neither seemed bothered by the man’s apology and the heavy breathing. “This will be our last team meeting as Team Minato. I’m sorry to say that I have to cut it short,” Minato said, nervous laughter following.

“We understand,” Rin answered for them, accepting the response with all the grace Obito seemed to lack then. Obito opened his mouth to say something smart and Kakashi slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. “Don’t we, Obito?” Rin smiled at him and Obito’s eyes dropped, muffled words suddenly forgotten.

“You’re the Hokage. You have other things to do,” Kakashi said, as if his sensei’s disappearing act didn’t matter to him, as if he hadn’t fallen apart in front of the man more times than they could count. Minato frowned at him, head tilted to the side to convey confusion. When he received the same look from Rin, Kakashi looked to Obito. “He isn’t Hokage?”

“Fugaku is Hokage,” Obito said, spitting the name as if it were something rotten. Minato chided the boy, but Kakashi was too busy thinking about a village under the control of the Uchiha clan head. He remembered how the clan had been regarded, shoved into the role of police force and sent to their deaths in the war. His idea of heaven had taken a sudden turn. “He’s _still_ hounding us about my eye. You said you’d talk to him,” Obito muttered. Again, Obito took Kakashi’s hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly.

“I’m not giving the eye back,” Kakashi replied, voice flat. Obito nodded, his agreement silent.

“Don’t worry. Minato-sensei won’t let him interfere. Right, sensei?” Rin had such a great opinion of the man, maybe a little too much faith, but Kakashi appreciated it, and Minato seemed to as well. Minato chuckled and held up both hands in a calming gesture, one meant to stop a fight before it had even begun. “They kicked Obito out of the clan,” Rin whispered to Kakashi. Kakashi had never considered the consequences of Obito’s actions before, not when he remembered the radio silence and cold shoulders he’d received from the clan after returning from Kannabi without Obito. Only Rin and Minato had seemed to care, as if Obito were nothing more than another corpse for a clan meant to value their members.

Kakashi placed his right hand over Obito’s left cheek and brushed his thumb over the smooth skin. The right side of Obito’s face was riddled with scars, the skin broken and discolored. Kakashi didn’t know how the boy had regained the use of his right arm after the cave in, but Kakashi didn’t ask, didn’t want to ask. The afterlife could fill in the blanks. Maybe it was the real world, and everything that had happened after Kannabi had been a horrible nightmare. Kakashi closed his visible eye and sought refuge in the darkness behind his eyelids. He thought he heard Minato mumble a question to Rin; he thought he heard Rin mention the concussion, but he didn’t care. He had them all. The team was whole. Kakashi had all he needed and more. He smiled, for the first time in months, for the first time in what felt like forever. He remembered the smiles he’d shared with his father, the joy that had been beneath the surface, and he called upon the familiarity once more, as if picking up where he’d left off all those years ago. Obito kissed him again, reintroducing the cherry and lemon he’d treasured.

Their practice didn’t last long enough, and he admitted to himself that he’d let his teammates win, time and time again. He would have let them win every time for the rest of their lives, if it meant having them in his life again. Minato smiled at them, the fond expression, the warmth, spreading over the entire area. When Minato clapped his hands, signaling the end of their practice, Obito groaned, the only complaint about their limited time together. Minato had a mission, another war mission, for the war had yet to end, and he would be gone for weeks. Minato told them that Kushina was around, and Kakashi remembered her vivid hair and her fiery temper, but he also remembered her cooking and her crushing hugs, and suddenly he needed to see her again too. Kakashi let his teammates go on ahead, while he lingered with Minato, but Obito doubled back for him.

“Come on. Your dad’s waiting, remember? Uh, for reasons. We should go see him. Slowly,” Obito said, waving Kakashi over to him. Kakashi froze, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The thought of seeing his father again destroyed him, sending him on a wave of various emotions, from endless happiness and quiet acceptance to crushing sadness and the bitter reminder of what it felt like to lose him. “Kakashi?” And it was odd to hear Obito using his name in such a soft tone, a small reminder of the importance of their relationship. Kakashi loved Obito, loved him with such an intensity that the feeling alone left him off-balance, struggling to make sense of how important one person was to him. He’d never had the chance to tell Obito; he’d never learned to accept his feelings until it was too late. “Come on,” Obito repeated, taking Kakashi’s hand. 

Kakashi remembered blood-stained floorboards and the way the sunlight filtered in through the blinds. He remembered the way his father’s body had looked, positioned just so, like a puppet with cut strings, as if someone had been cruel enough to abandon the man, right in the middle of what could have been a long life. Kakashi remembered the sting in his eyes and the heavy weight of loss and grief, reminding him again of the loss he’d felt with Obito, and then with Rin. Grief had turned him into a robot, someone guided by rules and logic rather than feelings and kindness. Obito had taught him. Obito had punched sense back into him. But he still recalled the position of the sun, and the way the blood had spread out across the floor, a stain he’d never been able to lift from the floorboards, despite the hours he spent on his hands and knees, scrubbing and scrubbing until his hands ached. The scent of the cleaning solution still made his stomach clench, so he spent the rest of his years avoiding the pine scent. Little things jogged his memory, and he suddenly saw corpses everywhere he went, reminders of his own failures. He had the opportunity to see his father again. That was something.

As they ventured through the village, passing familiar homes and businesses, Obito provided an endless stream of words for a one-sided conversation. Kakashi had a feeling Obito blamed Kakashi’s silence on the concussion, an injury Kakashi still couldn’t remember. Having a head full of images of Rin’s death did that, ears still hearing the signature chirping of his lightning attack. He woke up again and everything was alright. And wasn’t that something.

Obito led Kakashi to a familiar home, and the two entered into the dark interior. Kakashi’s eyes cut to the living room, expecting the fallen form, the blood fanned out around a cooling corpse, the sunlight shining on the remains of a man that had once been Kakashi’s entire world. Lights surprised him and then it was a chorus of voices welcoming him, celebrating him. Kakashi looked at all of his former classmates filling the home. Beside Kakashi, Obito gave his shoulder a tiny shove, encouraging him to enter further into the home. Minato. Kushina. Rin. Gai. So many people had come to wish him a happy birthday. And they repeated it again, as if he needed to hear the words more than anything. Sakumo stood in the middle of the guests, a small smile on his face, tired as it was. He held a large cake, the candles already lit, the bright blue bolt of lightning across the white icing welcoming him home. Kakashi felt a tightness in his throat, the familiar burn in his eyes, and then he stumbled forward a few steps. He inhaled the familiar scent of his father’s soap, the way the musk and smoky vanilla clung to the man. Kakashi didn’t care about the puzzled looks on the guests’ faces or the way his father’s brows drew together. Kakashi didn’t care about the cake. Kakashi threw his arms around his dad, and Sakumo had to lift the cake out of the way, because Kakashi would have gone right through it to get to his dad, and he wouldn’t have cared about the mess, the hours spent baking and decorating. 

“Happy birthday, Kakashi,” Sakumo said. Minato took the cake from Sakumo and Kakashi suddenly felt arms around him, holding him tightly. He’d almost forgotten the sound of his father’s voice. How could he have forgotten such a soothing sound? He felt as if he were a young boy again, as if his father were picking him up from the park, asking him if he’d had a good time, asking him if he’d won every game. “Happy birthday,” Sakumo repeated, softer. 

Everyone dispersed, drifting off toward the kitchen, chasing the promise of cake, while Sakumo, Obito, and Kakashi remained in the crossroads, caught between rooms. Kakashi hid his tears in his father’s shirt, and he knew the man must have been having a silent conversation with Obito. Kakashi felt a hand on his back, rubbing circles until he finally regained the strength needed to end the embrace. Obito was right there to sling an arm around his shoulders and he valued the sense of touch. He’d needed something to steady him, to ground him. Kakashi let his eyes roam over his dad’s face, taking in the stress lines and the laugh lines. Sakumo smiled then and Kakashi inhaled sharply. Again, his eyes stung with unshed tears, and he dragged Obito along to hug Sakumo just one more time.

“He has a concussion, but I think he’s forgotten a lot. It’s like he hasn’t seen you in a long time,” Obito explained, not minding that he’d been dragged along for yet another group hug. Sakumo made a small sound, confirming that he accepted the explanation. 

“I thought you were gone,” Kakashi whispered, his voice cracking, confused on whether he wanted to shout or whisper, to cry or rage. He remembered a coward. He remembered a hero. He remembered family meals and long walks home. How he’d missed his dad. “I thought you’d,” Kakashi began, the rest of his words lost. Sakumo held onto him tightly, squeezing him to reassure him that they were both there, that nothing bad had happened. “The mission. The mission had gone wrong and you’d, you’d taken your life. You’d chosen to save your teammates instead of completing the mission, and I’d hated you for years. I’d hated you for leaving me, for sinking so low. I’d thought of you as a coward, but Obito had changed my mind. Kannabi,” Kakashi rambled, his last words interrupted as his dad’s expression hardened.

“I would _never_ do that to you, Kakashi. Never. I chose to complete the mission, and those deaths are on me, but I knew the importance of the mission, and I knew what my comrades wanted me to do. I was coming home to you. I’ll always come home to you,” Sakumo insisted, hands going to Kakashi’s shoulders. Kakashi didn’t care that he’d dissolved into tears again, that snot ran from his nostrils, that he broke down again. Out of character for him, but so welcomed. He’d held onto his tears for so long, for too long, and he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Every tear healed him. Every shake of his shoulders cast off the deep scars left behind by stages of grief he hadn’t yet completed. 

“Come on, you guys! I’m ready for some cake, dattebane!” Kushina poked her head around the corner and smiled at them, though the expression wavered when she took in Kakashi’s tears. She stepped into the hall and walked over to them, setting one hand against Kakashi’s back. “Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” Kushina looked from Sakumo to Obito, then to Kakashi. 

“Yeah,” Kakashi answered, voice hoarse. “Just a concussion.” She nodded, as if she understood, then she straightened up and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Sakumo reached out and brushed a hand over Kakashi’s cheeks, wiping at the tear tracks, then he gave Kakashi an encouraging smile. Kakashi took Obito’s hand and the two led the way into the kitchen. As they walked, Kakashi wiped his nose off on his forearm, ignoring the way Obito wrinkled his nose. “Do you want me to wipe my snot on you?”

“No way! Let’s just focus on the cake,” Obito said, taking the lead. Obito dragged Kakashi over to the bar between the kitchen and the dining room. Minato stood in the kitchen, and he extended a lighter to the candles on the cake, once again giving Kakashi the opportunity to blow them out.

Everyone gathered in the dining room, leaving Kakashi on the other side of the bar. Kakashi looked down at the lightning bolt and remembered the countless times he’d felt helpless. As he inhaled, he took in all of the memories of that life; as he exhaled, he blew away that version of himself. He said goodbye to that broken boy, to the loss, to the grief, to endless possibilities, every one darker than the last. He looked up at his former classmates and smiled, basking in their applause and their joyous shouts. Together, they had created a moment of peace, even in the midst of war. And then Obito was there, telling him to cut the cake, telling him to take the biggest piece for himself. Kakashi cut right into the lightning bolt, and then everything around him seemed to pulse. He felt the pain in his left eye again. He hissed and dropped the knife. He took a step away from Obito, only to draw the boy into his arms again. He saw the panic written all over their faces; he heard the rise in their voices. All of them tried to reach him, even as he tumbled down, down, down. He couldn’t breathe, and he recalled the way Rin’s chest had given under the strength of his attack. Everything was red again. Everything hurt again.

“Wake up!”

Obito. He heard Obito. Someone slapped him one more time and he forced himself to open his eyes. Obito scowled at him, reeling back to slap him once more, but Kakashi reached out and took the hand. He tangled their fingers together, taking refuge in the gesture, traveling back to the world where they were together. The anger bled away, replaced by confusion, then by mild irritation. Kakashi took in the chaos around him, the bodies of the Kirigakure shinobi scattered around them. Obito was beside him, collapsed as well, but he was alone. Kakashi wanted to ask about his dad; he wanted to ask about the world he’d left behind. But he knew that the place was nothing more than a dream, well-crafted as it had been. Kakashi didn’t need to know how Obito had survived. He didn’t need to know why Obito had chosen to return to him. He squeezed Obito’s hand and Obito squeezed back, both of them relying far too much on the contact. 

“Don’t leave me,” Kakashi managed, throat still raw, voice hoarse. He couldn’t maneuver to look at Obito, not with the boy collapsed to one side, not with Rin’s corpse to the other side. Touch was enough. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Obito promised, his voice cracking. They were falling apart together then, both dissolving into silent sobs. And if they felt their hands shaking, if they choked on the inhales and struggled on the exhales, neither of them acknowledged it.


End file.
